


keep me warm

by Umbrella_ella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/pseuds/Umbrella_ella
Summary: '"Are you sure this is what you want?" Severus' hand cupped the back of her neck as their foreheads touched. His breath, sweet and sharp with the smell of firewhisky, fluttered across her lips, and Hermione swallowed, her words caught in her throat like a bezoar.'Prompted in the discord group.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 20
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Severus' hand cupped the back of her neck as their foreheads touched. His breath, sweet and sharp with the smell of firewhisky, fluttered across her lips, and Hermione swallowed, her words caught in her throat like a bezoar. They stood together in the dim light of his private quarters, warm and giddy from the staff Christmas party, though Hermione suspected it to be a mix of intent and alcohol. 

His bed stood in the corner, the silken, dark sheets beckoning her, beckoning the both of them as she considered her next words carefully. 

"No going back now." She whispered softly, her lips parting as she licked her bottom lip. His eyes, soft and cool, darkened as he bridged the gap between them. His lips were warm on hers, and his fingers firm as he held her close. A spark blazed between them, her core alight as the tips of his fingers traced out the nape of her neck. He twined his hand through her wild mane of toffee hair, pins long abandoned as the Christmas party had gone on past midnight, and pulled her closer. Gooseflesh sprang up, and the brush of his tongue against hers sent her nerves whirling as she trembled, and she braced her hands on his chest.

Severus pulled away, then, his eyes deep and thoughtful, the warmth in them setting her alight, and Hermione inhaled sharply as his eyes considered her robes, calculating and greedy all at once, as though he would have her naked before him in little more than a moment, and really he could, if he wanted to-- 

"Get undressed, Hermione," he said, his voice soft, barely a rumble in the quiet of the moment, but she understood. It was a demand, a request, and a need she would fill. Her teaching robes were easily undone, and they made little noise as they fell to the stone floor. Only her slip was left, and she drew her hands to the hem, intent upon removing that too, before he moved to stop her, his hands enveloping hers. 

"Please," his voice was deep now, a husk she had never heard before, and a thrill lanced through her, and she very nearly whimpered aloud, "allow me." 

Lace and silk drew across her skin, a trail of nervous anticipation bursting forth, and she was sure Severus could hear her heart thudding in the quiet. Finally, she was free and though she wanted very much to hide, to drape her arms across herself, she stood proudly, if a little shakily, as she watched him take a step back, his black eyes watching intently. A hunger sprang forward, then, as he traced her curves, considering her throughly, and it felt as though his eyes had swallowed her whole. He paused then, on her arm, gaze tracing out the word carved into her flesh with a pained frown. 

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. That was a conversation for later. Now, now she wanted to love him, to feel him above her, to remind him that he deserved every inch of her. Stepping into him, she let her bare skin press to his robes, let her face tilt upward, and spoke, "Kiss me?"

Severus smiled then, a thin, wan thing, and drew her close, gathering her to his chest. His lips brushed her forehead, soft, as though she were sacred in some way, as though tenderness were tied to sainthood in his eyes, and then, his lips met the flush of her cheeks, and then, blessedly, sweeter than even she knew Severus to be, he parted her lips with a gentle brush of his calloused thumb to her bottom lip. He tasted like ale and firewhisky and Severus, and she desperately needed to taste him, to taste his skin and his mouth and his cock and everything in between. 

His eyes glittered in the darkness, the wind whistling against the leaded panes of glass as she fumbled with the clasp on his robes, unsure and needy and hurried with thoughts of the pale skin that lay in wait for her tough. Her fingertips were eager and clumsy, and he hummed into her mouth as he brushed her digits aside. Instead, her hands sought the dip of his hips through fabric, and a sigh of need rumbling in his chest as he pulled away. 

Severus was breathless, eyes shining black as he made quick work of his robes, years of practice making him methodical and neat. There he stood in moments, pale and lithe and beautifully sculpted. The pale light of the winter moon cast long shadows at the hollow of his collarbones, and calling to her, begging her to feel his pale skin beneath her hands, and this was so much more than she thought it would be, this moment here, with shuddering gasps and tender, careful touches. 

He was warmer, warmer than she thought he would be, and she stepped closer, smoothing her palms over the planes of his chest, nails soothing the thin line of hair until the waist of his smallclothes stopped her progress. His sharp hiss as she thumbed the band of skin there was enough to make him tilt her face towards him, enough to make him swallow her gasp between desperate lips.

His fingers explored her skin, soft and careful, stopping only to pluck at her nipples sharply, and Hermione nearly squirmed at the feeling of his long fingers, always so precise and deliberate, plucking at her. 

"Hermione," he muttered, his lips finding the smooth slope of her neck, his nose nudging at her jawline, "I would like to fuck you."

His teeth nipped at her pulse-point and she shuddered, and she was sure he could feel what he had done to her, the thrum of her heartbeat rushing in her ears. With a sticky, nervous sort of swallow, she took his hands in her own, and pulled him along, her thighs meeting cool sheets and gooseflesh erupting from the cold. 

"I'm cold, Severus," she breathed, and she saw a flash of dismay flicker through his aroused features, "keep me warm." 

His intent welled anew, and Hermione watched as his throat bobbed, eyes sparkling, and his lips twisted into a dark smile, but it only served to send a thrill of pleasure through her core, the embers sparking as he drew nearer, his hands pushing her back until she lay before him. He looked at her as a starved man, eyes desperate and searching, but slow, as though to savor this moment. He leaned in, enough for her to feel him against her thigh, warm and hard, even through the cotton of his smallclothes. Her nipples stiffened in the cold, and his lips traced out the lines and slopes of her neck, and along her collarbones until he met the valley between her breasts, layering kisses there until his tongue traced a careful path around her left nipple. 

A mewl of pleasure escaped Hermione before she could stop it, and she slapped her palm over her mouth in an attempt to stiffle herself. His lips were so warm, tongue so gentle as he attended her chest, and with a quick swipe through her folds, found her clit. She was already wet, the mere tension of the night already pleasuring her, but the slide of his thin digit against her sent her pleasure pulsing through her, the frission lighting her body aflame. His mouth met her right nipple with the same sort of dedication, and she really shouldn't have been surprised, and she was going to tell him so, but his finger swiped lower, and suddenly he was there, pressing inside of her, careful and smooth and slow, and her hips bucked and all was forgotton as his thumb traced out a careful rhythm on her clit. 

"Sev- Severus," Hermioned whined, and if she were more lucid, she might be embarrassed at the way she sounded, breathy and lost and begging, but she had forgotton to care, "please, please, more." 

Severus chuckled, the sound echoing in his chamber, and it was a black, amused thing, and he leaned in, all the while playing out her pleasure with his thumb at her core, sparking and fizzing and full of need. 

"What do you want, Granger?" he purred, "do you want me to fill you, to fuck you and make you come?"

Hermione could do nothing else but nod, and for a brief moment, he paused, shifting away. The room smelled of her. 

He was above her in a moment, his hands on either side of her head, and his legs nestled between her thighs. His cock was velvet against her trembling thighs, hard and hot, and she bucked her hips against him, watching with a wicked grin as his eyes fluttered shut. His hair, long and soft draped around them as he lowered himself to kiss her once more, and he braced himself. 

A careful movement made sure he was pressed to her slick folds. A stuttered breath made his hair flutter, and he closed his eyes. Her hand met the base of his cock, careful to guide him, and he let out a sigh as he slid into her. A moan of pleasure and a brief moment to remember the way a man could fill her, and Severus began to move. He was slow and considerate, and Hermione was grateful as ever, her hands threading through his long hair and watching the way his face contorted as he fucked her to the hilt. Her skin was slicked with sweat and adrenaline and pleasure and her mind was a fog of need and greed, and Severus fell into a rhythm easily, and the snap of their hips meeting as one filled the air. Filthy words spilled forward from between clenched teeth, and surely Hermione would have bruises on her hips where his thumbs pressed into them, deseperate and greedy. 

"Fuck, Hermione," he hissed, his voice hoarse and deep, and he groaned, short nails biting into her hips. 

Hermione moaned; watching Severus Snape take her, feeling him between her thighs, taking him into herself, the way he said her name, it was enough to set her on fire. Embers danced on her skin, and she whined out a gasp when the digits of one hand slipped between them clumsily. 

His hand was still slick with her, and she cried out loudly as he rubbed at her, and a bud of pleasure sprung up, her eyes screwing shut as Severus fucked her deeply. Hoarse cries and muted grunts filled the air, heavy and dewy with the scent of sex as she came, a long spring snapping the tension, unspooling and unfurling in one long, deep groan. 

Severus huffed, his breaths quick and uneven, and fucked into her, his hips snapping wildly. With a final gasp, he came, buried inside of her, and his head dropped to Hermione's collarbone, short, harsh pants cooling her skin. 

"Severus?" Hermione panted out, breathless and sated. 

"Hmmm?" His hum of askance came out in a broken sort of sigh. She pulled the spare throw at the end of the bed around them, the chill of the dungeon encroaching on their shared warmth. His hair smelled of ash and copper, like brewing, and she loved it.

"I do, you know," she said, her voice small and quiet, and her fingers threaded through his dark hair gently, "want this."


	2. broom cupboards aren't just for kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Try to stay quiet, understand?"
> 
> Prompted by the discord group.

It begins, as all things worth mentioning at Hogwarts do, in a broom cupboard. It isn't their intent, really, to end up here, but they have. One moment, Professors Granger and Snape are having a whispered, heated argument over the merits of shredding boomslang skin properly, and the next, the seventh floor corridor is completely empty. 

Severus' lips are cool, a welcome contrast to the heat that coils between her legs as he pushes her back into the stone wall. She shivers then, cold stone chilling her through her teaching robes-- his long digits press into her shoulders, holding her, possesive and needy and so very, very intoxicating. 

His mouth is warm, and he tastes of cranberry and ham, remnants of their shared supper, and Hermione pulls him close, her fingers threading into his long robes as she moans into his mouth. It's a throaty, desperate sort of thing, and she feels him hum, his lips breaking away, searching out the silk expanse of her jaw, dotted tender kisses there as he whispers, "Try to stay quiet, understand?" 

Her heart beats faster, the thunderous sound making her almost certain they would be caught here like a couple of teenagers, but his look brooks no argument. His hands find her hips, rucking her skirt up as he kisses her again, and all arguments against this particular course of action float away on a sigh as her lips meet his. His hair is thicker than one might think, and she fists it in her grip, tugging a groan from his throat, his hands fumbling at her waist. They don't have time, really, for anything but what they're doing, but Hermione is needy and warm and her knickers are sticky with anticipation. 

"Please, Severus," she says, breathy and high and needy, and perhaps she should be embarassed, but she isn't and he doesn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite in fact, as he pulls away, sinking to his knees in a fluid motion. A gasp, unbidden and small, escapes her, and she swallows. 

"Are you-- are you sure?" She's nervous, suddenly, trembling, and he looks up at her, his head at her abdomen, and she remembers then, how very tall he is, the way his muscles, lean and lithe, felt beneath her hands the first time. 

"What did I say about being quiet, Granger?" His voice is warm, suffused with a desperation seldom heard, and she nods, wordless at the way his hands find her garter beneath her robes, his thumbs sweeping back and forth, warm and greedy and needy, and her thighs part, unbidden and automatic, his touch blazing a trail that sends a spark of need to her core. His thumbs move upwards, closer, until he gets to her knickers, a practical sort. His smirk is all molten heat and sex, and she thinks depraved thoughts about his thin lips, and his tongue is pink and perfect, leaving his mouth full and glossy and perfect. Hermione can't help but trace his bottom lip carefully with a shaking thumb.

He lifts her robes, then, up past her hips, and her knees almost buckle at the way his lips trace open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin between her thighs. She trembles and gasps as his tongue traces out the marks and valleys of her skin, attentive and warm, his mouth hot on her skin. Hermione is dizzy with a desire thrilling through her, and she almost squirms beneath Severus' attetions, needy and gasping and desperate for more. As though he knows her mind, a single digit traces her womanhood through damp lace, and she cries out, the tension heightening and sending her to new heights. Her head might hurt later, it's pressing so hard to the stone, but his touch is beautiful and sacred and wanted, and so she doesn't pay any mind to it. 

Severus hums in consideration for a moment before the sting of teeth sets her hissing in a wild, unexpected way as she presses her thigh to his mouth, shaking, wordless pleas begging for more. Severus complies then, sucking at her skin, his teeth nipping a trail as he shifts closer to her core. A sharp hiss cuts the quiet as his nose bumps her, and she feels, knows that Severus is smiling, wicked and black, because his eyes meet hers, blown wide with desire, sparking with an intensity that might shatter her then and there. 

Severus smirks, then, as her fingers twine through his thick, dark locks, and tug. It is a demand, albeit a silent one, but he dutifully listens nontheless. 

His fingers are careful, precise as he draws her close, as he breathes her in slowly, that simple act making Hermione's blood rush to her core. The cupboard is warm, and Hermione feels sweat slick down her back. For a moment, it's only the sound of her own heartbeat and the thunder of anticipatory quiet as Severus shifted on his knees, a hushed gasp of reverence escaping him. Her underwear are off in a moment, and Severus leans back in awe. 

She's never felt more beautiful. 

"Christ, Hermione," he says, voice craggy and low, before he leans in and parts her with patient thumbs, his tongue tracing her core easily, finding her clit easily, and it's all Hermione can do to keep her muttered "fuck" hushed. 

Severus is the precise sort in everything he does, thorough and particular, and tongue fucking her is no different. Her knees weaken, and he catches her then, coaxing one knee over his shoulder carefully as his tongue works her. Her core coils, an edge of need tightening there, and she moans aloud, throaty and gutteral as one digit presses into her. He plays her as easily as he brews, easy and precise and intuitively, and he finds the spot that makes concentrating on any but him and the way his mouth feels and the way his fingers, first one and then another, coax her closee to the edge. 

Hermione has never been the praying sort, really, but now, now she needs something, anything to keep this moment here for as long as she can. Her lover has different ideas, because he shifts then, suckling at her, and she buckles, her arm flying out to catch herself clumsily, and he works her diligently, the spring inside of her tightening, her desire threatening to snap the thin tether she has on reality. 

Severus crooks his fingers, then, tongue flicking at her ruthlessly, and she comes undone. She cries out and it's loud and everything he'd warned against, but she can't care, not when sparks are dancing beneath her eyelids, not when she is twitching beneath careful ministrations, not when magic spools around her, her desire snapping in two, tenuous control abandoning her. 

When she comes to, Severus is holding her close, pinning her between himself and the wall. He presses his lips to her hair, smelling of her and Hermione blushes, capturing his lips with her own, eagerly, and she tastes herself in his mouth. He smells of her and it thrills her. 

"So," she starts, her heart speeding along, "shall we continue this elsewhere?" 

Professors Snape and Granger are the pinnacle of decorum as they exit the broom cupboard, and for the first time in his tenure at Hogwarts, Severus Snape neglects to take house points from a couple necking in an alcove in the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review, darlings!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a review and let me know what you think. 💙


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